


A Constant Game of Falling Short

by inoubliable



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Eddie's friends like to meddle in his love life, M/M, Meet-Cute, Past Relationship(s), Poor Life Choices, Strangers to Lovers, Surprisingly Richie doesn't mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoubliable/pseuds/inoubliable
Summary: Eddie likes to fix people. Richie, surprisingly, doesn't need to be fixed.--Sonia Kaspbrak already doesn't like the fact that her son likes men. She'd flat out die if she laid eyes on the kind of guy Eddie tends to date: grungy, unkempt, tattooed. The kind of guys who know how to ride a skateboard and roll a joint. You know. Bad boys.





	A Constant Game of Falling Short

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Are You Ten Years Ago? by Tegan and Sara (though I personally prefer the Pvris version).

When Eddie breaks up with his boyfriend, none of his friends are that upset about it.

"About tuh-time," Bill says.

"Good riddance," Stan says.

"You're better off without him," Ben says.

And, okay, it's not like Eddie was in love with the guy or anything, but it still kind of sucks. He spends the post-breakup weekend on his couch in his pajamas, watching all of the romantic movies that Netflix recommends to him.

It's Saturday night and he's halfway through _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_ when Beverly lets herself into his apartment. Eddie never regrets telling his friends how to find the spare key quite like he does after a break-up.

"You look like shit," Bev tells him. He steadfastly ignores her, shoveling another scoop of Rocky Road ice cream in his mouth. She sighs, then sits beside him, quietly watching Kate Hudson fall in love with Matthew McConaughey on-screen.

"He never even met my mom," Eddie says sadly, watching McConaughey's character introduce Hudson to his parents.

He doesn't see it, but he knows Bev rolls her eyes. "You didn't want him to meet your mom," she points out. "You were scared she'd have a heart attack."

Eddie wants to argue, but she's right. Sonia Kaspbrak already doesn't like the fact that her son likes men. She'd flat-out die if she laid eyes on the kind of guy Eddie tends to date: grungy, unkempt, tattooed. The kind of guys who know how to ride a skateboard and roll a joint. You know. Bad boys.

"I wanted him to _want_ to meet my mom," Eddie says.

"I wanted him to want a job," Beverly returns flatly.

"He was working on it!" he protests.

"He was working on a rap album," she says, and her mouth twitches a little, like she's trying very hard not to laugh.

"I'm glad my love life is so funny to you," Eddie says darkly, putting aside his ice cream so he can cross his arms over his chest, pouting at the television screen.

Bev sighs and puts her hand on his knee. "Eddie, I love you with my whole heart, but you're being dramatic. You didn't even like him that much."

She's got a point, not that he'd admit it. He stares harder at the screen and stubbornly refuses to look at her.

"I know what will cheer you up," she says, squeezing his leg. "Let's get dressed up and go out. Mike's working tonight. He'll make us that awesome sangria you like."

It's just not fair, using Mike's sangria against him. He's only so strong. He pretends to consider it, even though they both know he's going to agree.

And so that's how Eddie ends up in a bar after his latest breakup, wine glass in hand, in the company of two of his best friends. Bev and Mike are talking about something, but Eddie is only half-listening. He's still brooding.

Mike reaches out and takes the glass out of Eddie's hand, jerking him from his thoughts. It's empty, which is surprising. He doesn't remember draining it. That was his second, and he really shouldn't have another, but Mike is already making it.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he demands, squinting at his friends suspiciously.

"Trying to get you relaxed," Beverly says. "Trust me, you need it." Mike turns away to uncork a fresh bottle of wine, but not before Eddie sees his smile.

"You guys are traitors," Eddie tells them. He's supposed to be wallowing, but he's a happy drunk and his friends know it.

"Don't blame me," Mike says, over his shoulder. "I'm just doing my job."

"Isn't that great?" Beverly says dreamily. "A man who works. What a welcome change in your life, Eddie."

Mike very poorly stifles a laugh. Eddie glowers at both of them. "I hate you guys."

"No, you don't," Beverly says brightly. She clinks her glass against the one Mike hands back to Eddie. "Cheers to being single."

"Is this your way of telling me that you and Ben are breaking up?" Eddie asks, just to be a brat.

Beverly waves him off, like the idea is patently ridiculous. And it is; the strength of Bev's relationship with Ben is inversely related to the strength of any of Eddie's relationships. "Cheers to _you_ being single," she says.

"I'll drink to that," Mike says, raising his own glass from behind the bar. Knowing Mike, it's probably soda. Eddie will never understand how a straight-edge part-time librarian ended up as a bartender, but he's stopped questioning it.

"Me, too," adds an unfamiliar voice. Eddie spins around, and there's suddenly a guy leaned up against the bar, staring at him. He is very tall and his hair is a messy black halo around his face, long enough to touch his collar. His cheekbones are high and his lips are pink and he looks at Eddie with such unabashed interest that Eddie feels a little warm. He's holding a beer and he tilts it in Eddie's direction, a lazy toast. "Don't know what kind of asshole let you get away, but I'd love to thank him."

Eddie just knows his friends are rolling their eyes at each other behind him. That knowledge does not prevent him from swaying towards the stranger, just a little. The guy is, unfortunately, just his type. Eddie sees a hint of black ink on the guy's wrist, peeking out from underneath his faded leather jacket, and his mouth dries out.

Beverly leans in over Eddie's shoulder. "Sorry, buddy, we're not interested."

"Speak for yourself," Eddie says out of the corner of his mouth. The stranger's smile widens. His teeth are a little crooked. Eddie is fucking _charmed_.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the guy asks, sliding onto the stool next to Eddie. His legs are so long that their knees touch. Eddie wonders, just briefly, what their legs would look like tangled together in bed.

"He doesn't pay for drinks here," Mike chimes in. He's polishing a glass with a touch more force than necessary, his big arms flexing with the movement. He looks vaguely intimidating. The stranger does not look at all intimidated. He flashes an easy grin and leans up against the bar top.

"Maybe you should buy me a drink, then," he says, to Eddie.

It's exactly the wrong thing to say, because Bev puffs up, eyes narrowed. "We're not looking for a freeloader," she tells him icily.

The guy lifts his hands in surrender. "I'm kidding, Red. I can buy my own drinks."

"My name is not Red," Bev says. Her voice drips acid. "It's Beverly."

"Nice to meet you," the man says, but he doesn't look away from Eddie. "And what's your name, sweetheart?"

"Eddie," Eddie says, sounding stupidly breathless. He always gets this way around guys like this. It's pretty much the whole problem.

"I'm Richie," Richie says, and holds out a hand. He doesn't so much shake Eddie's hand as hold it, his thumb stroking across Eddie's knuckles. "It's nice to meet you."

Eddie's phone vibrates against the bar. He glances at it automatically. There's a new message in the group chat he's in with all of his friends. It's technically called _The Losers Club_ , but they really should have named it _Let's Talk Shit About Eddie's Love Life_.

 **Bev:** _Eddie has found the next love of his life._

Eddie scowls over at her. She doesn't even look up from her phone. His screen lights up again.

 **Bev:** _Who wants to bet he's "recently unemployed"?_

Eddie knows she's expecting him to ask. He wants to refuse, just out of spite, but honestly he kind of wants to know for himself.

"So, Richie." Eddie turns back to him and tries to ignore the fact that his friends are listening to his every word. "What do you do for a living?"

Richie smiles that devastating smile again. "I'm a radio host."

Beverly makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a scoff, covering it poorly with a cough. Eddie steadfastly ignores her.

"I do the morning show for 102.9 WBLM," Richie continues, rubbing a hand through his long hair like maybe he's a little shy about it. "It's a rock station, I don't know if you've heard of it."

Eddie hasn't. He doesn't know anything about rock music or the radio - he mostly listens to pop and CDs - but Mike looks up suddenly from where he's lining up liquor bottles and pretending not to eavesdrop. "Wait. That's you?"

Richie nods, clearly pleased. "Yeah, man. Every morning from 6 to 9."

"I listen to you when I work out," Mike tells him. Now that he's not acting tough, he looks relaxed and kind, like he usually does. Eddie has never, ever seen Mike look that way around someone Eddie is interested in.

"That's awesome!" Richie sounds truly excited. Eddie can't help but stare at him, at the way his eyes light up and his grin stretches wide. His chest feels kind of tight.

His phone lights up again, several times in quick succession.

 **Bev:** _Okay, turns out the guy has a job._

 **Stan:** _So, what does he do?_

 **Bev:** _He hosts a radio show._

 **Stan:** _That doesn't sound like a real job._

 _We can't all be accountants, you snooty asshole,_ Eddie wants to say, but Richie's staring at him again so he puts his phone down.

Just as he starts to say something else, someone knocks into Eddie's shoulder, hard, jostling his sangria. It spills mostly on the floor but Eddie's still annoying about it, jerking around to give someone a piece of his mind.

Except Richie is already standing there, braced between Eddie and a swaying, muscular stranger. The guy eyes Richie like he's considering a fight, and Richie isn't exactly discouraging him, standing at his full, admittedly impressive height. Eddie's heart sinks. He knows how this goes. 

But then Richie says, "You okay, man?" and reaches forward to help the guy balance, gripping his elbow loosely. The guy looks like he wants to jerk away, but his eyes are heavy-lidded and he apparently lacks the coordination, pulling back only to sway forward, falling heavily against Richie. Richie sags a little under the sudden weight but manages to keep them both upright. "Where are your friends?"

"We were playin' pool," the guy says, slurring badly. Richie leads the guy away in slow, stumbling steps, throwing Eddie an apologetic look over his shoulder. The two of them disappear into the crowd and Eddie stares after them for a long moment. He feels a little bit like he just let his soulmate slip through his fingers.

"He's not your soulmate," Beverly says, not looking up from her phone. He's not surprised she knew what he was thinking. She has listened to him wax poetic about enough ex-boyfriends to know what a sap he is.

"He could be," Eddie argues, but Bev pretends not to hear him.

"I liked him," Mike admits to Eddie, but it might just be because Eddie looks so crestfallen. Mike might be the only person who is more of a hopeless romantic than Eddie.

Eddie sips sullenly on his sangria, resigning himself to a long, miserable life of solitude.

"You're too pretty to look so sad," Richie's voice says in his ear, a moment later. He slides back into his seat, and their shoulders brush. "Did you miss me?" he asks, grinning toothily. _Yes,_ Eddie thinks.

"Is your friend okay?" he asks instead.

Richie glances over at the side of the bar where several people are crowded around the pool tables. The guy he helped over there is nowhere to be seen. "No idea," Richie says. "His friends took him off my hands."

"Well, tell him to learn his limits," Eddie says disdainfully.

Richie laughs. "If I ever see him again, I will."

"Wait." Eddie eyes him, confused. "Don't you know him?"

Richie looks equally puzzled. "That guy? Nah." He shrugs. "He just looked like he needed some help."

Eddie's heart melts, just a little.

"Do you make it a habit to help out strangers in bars?" he teases, mostly to hide how stupidly charmed he is.

Richie smiles. "It's good karma. Besides, I've been in that guy's shoes before."

"Do you drink often?" Beverly chimes in suddenly. She has evidently been listening to their entire conversation, because she is a nosy bitch who loves to meddle.

Eddie would not blame Richie for being offended, but Richie doesn't look upset at all. "Not anymore. But who doesn't drink in college, you know?"

And just like that, Bev's entire attitude shifts. Eddie practically feels it happen.

"Did you hear that, Mikey?" she says, as if Mike isn't just as nosy as she is, clearly listening from behind the bar. "He went to college."

Mike pulls his phone from his pocket and types something very quickly. Eddie's phone lights up a second later.

 **Mike:** _Eddie's new man went to college._

Eddie doesn't even have enough time to tell him off before there's a new text.

 **Bill:** _Very funny. Eddie doesn't date guys with an education level higher than fifth grade._

Bev snorts. Eddie scowls.

 **Stan:** _You guys are still at the bar?_

 **Bev:** _Yeah. We can't leave yet. This is the most successful relationship Eddie has ever had._

 **Stan:** _We'll be there in ten._

Eddie's heart sinks. "Oh, no," he says, and hides his face in his hands.

"Did I miss something?" Richie asks, sounding amused.

"My friends are assholes," Eddie says from behind his fingers.

Mike takes Richie's empty beer bottle off the counter and replaces it with a fresh one. "Thanks, man," Richie says, and starts to dig out his wallet. Mike waves him off.

"It's on the house," he says, and finally disappears to check on other customers.

"Cool guy," Richie says to Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't let him fool you. He's just as bad as the rest of them."

"The rest of them?"

"The rest of my friends. Who are apparently on their way here because they are incapable of minding their own business."

Richie looks very much like he's trying not to smile. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you must have dated some real winners if your friends are excited about you talking to some radio host who wasted $50,000 on a communications degree."

"My friends would be excited about me talking to a lamppost at this point," Eddie sighs. "A lamppost would probably have more redeeming qualities than most of my ex-boyfriends, actually."

Richie's not bothering to hide his grin anymore. "So, what's your type? Guys who can't let go of their college days?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, mostly at himself. "Guys who can't let go of their _high school_ days."

"Yikes." Richie clicks his tongue against his teeth sympathetically. "Let me guess. You like bad boys."

"Is it that obvious?" Eddie asks, sheepish.

Richie's grin widens. "You're not the first guy to be attracted to me for my grungy charm."

Eddie lifts an eyebrow. "Who said I'm attracted to you?"

Richie eyes him, then leans in close. "Aren't you?" he asks. His voice goes soft, intimate. Eddie accidentally glances at his mouth and doesn't realize he's done so until Richie smirks.

"You're okay, I guess," Eddie says, but it sounds shaky even to his own ears.

"Please don't make out before Stan gets here," Bev says. "Mike is too nice to make fun of you with me."

Eddie closes his eyes, looking pained. "I'm so sorry. I will totally understand if you want to fake an important phone call so you can escape this mess."

Richie laughs. "And miss the excitement? Not a chance, Eddie Spaghetti."

There isn't enough time for Eddie to comment on that truly horrendous nickname because someone is suddenly leaning in over Eddie's shoulder. "It's too late to fake a call anyway," Stan's voice says. His hand appears between them, stuck out in Richie's direction. "I'm Stan."

"I'm Richie," Richie says, shaking Stan's hand. "I've gotta say, this is the fastest I've ever met the friends. Maybe tomorrow I can meet your mother, Eds."

He's obviously kidding, but Stan is an asshole who has no sense of tact or timing, and he says, "Is meeting the parents a problem for you?"

Richie blinks, then shrugs a shoulder, looking kind of helpless but mostly amused. "I'm not opposed to it," he says. "I mean, I'd like to go on an actual date first, but a guy as cute as Eddie is always welcome to take me home to mama."

"Isn't he _perfect_?" Bev sighs loudly. Eddie puts his head down on the bar and is too busy wallowing in self-pity to think about all the germs he's face-down in.

The thing is, Richie fits in remarkably well with Eddie's friends. Bill and Ben introduce themselves, and then the three of them somehow fall into a conversation about some show that has been sitting untouched in Eddie's Netflix queue for months. Stan interrupts them after awhile and Richie doesn't even fumble at all over Stan's flat, dry sense of humor, but matches it instead. It's hard to make Stan smile, but Richie makes Stan _laugh_. Mike serves them all drinks and catches Eddie's eye every time he passes by, his mouth quirked. Bev excuses herself to smoke and Richie joins her, and when they come back they're leaned together like old friends, arms brushing fondly. Eddie's heart feels almost too full, hot and thick in the back of his throat. It's overwhelming, having his friends like someone he's interested in. It has never actually happened before.

It's nearing midnight when Richie takes the last sip of his beer and shakes his head when Mike goes to refresh it. "I have to head out," he says, and he actually sounds disappointed about it. "I've gotta work in the morning."

"See? He's _responsible_ ," Bev whispers to Ben, just loud enough for Eddie to hear.

"You better be careful," Eddie says, voice wry. "Bev's about one more good quality away from taking you home with her."

Richie quirks a grin. "I'm flattered, but she's not the one I want to go home with."

"Smooth," Mike whispers.

"You're not going home with any of us," Stan says severely. "Not on the first date."

"How about the next one, then?" Richie returns without missing a beat. Eddie feels sort of pinned under Richie's hot, dark gaze when he says, "The one we go on this Friday. Does seven work for you?"

" _Smooth_ ," Mike whispers again, more emphatically.

Eddie can do nothing but nod. Richie grins at him and reaches out, cupping Eddie's chin in his big hand. Eddie thinks for one beautiful, frightening second that Richie's going to kiss him, but all he does is rub his thumb underneath Eddie's lower lip. "Goodbye, Eds."

"Bye," Eddie says back, a little weakly. Richie doesn't move for a second, and then look like it takes an extreme amount of effort to drop his hand and walk away. He hesitates at the door, glancing back, and Eddie waves at him helplessly, dazed. Richie smiles, winks, and disappears outside.

Eddie stares after him for a long time, until a sudden thought strikes him. He jolts upright on his chair. "Fuck!"

His friends, who have started to talk amongst themselves, all look at him.

"What's wrong?" Ben asks.

Eddie puts his elbow on the bar counter and props his chin heavily in his hand, looking rather glum. "How am I supposed to go on a date with him?" he pouts. "I didn't even get his number."

He expects Bev to comfort him, the way she always does when his relationships go wrong.

He does not at all expect for her to laugh.

"I never thought I'd see the day where your man is smarter than you," she says, and moves Richie's empty beer bottle off the beverage napkin it's on. She pulls the little white square closer and looks at it pointedly.

In black ink, jagged and unruly, it says _Call me, gorgeous_. There's a phone number scrawled underneath. Richie's signature is at the bottom, almost illegible. Eddie is much too proud to admit that he strokes a fond finger over it, but there's no denying his stupid smile.

**Author's Note:**

> 102.9 WBLM is an actual classic rock radio station in Maine. The more you know.
> 
> You are more than welcome to my [tumblr](http://namingtheruins.tumblr.com/) and give me a prompt (hint, hint).


End file.
